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COPYRIGHT DEFOSm 



THE NEW DAY 



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THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 

NEW YORK • BOSTON • CHICAGO • DALLAS 
ATLANTA • SAN FRANCISCO 

MACMILLAN & CO., Limited 

LONDON • BOMBAY • CALCUTTA 
MELBOURNE 

THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, Ltd. 

TORONTO 



R IS (3i9 



THE NEW DAY 



BY 
SCUDDER MIDDLETON 

AUTHOR OF "STREETS AND FACES" 



THE MACMTLLAN COMPANY 
1919 

All rights restnei 



^ 






V< 



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Copyright, 1919, 
By THE MACMILLAN COMPANY. 



Set up and electrotyped. Published March, 1919. 



MAR i3 1 91 9 
©CLA512600 



&o am. %. as. 

/ have not very much to show 
For all the songs I planned, 
For much was lost between the heart 
And my uncertain hand. 

But take the gift and add to it 
A beauty that endures: 
The love that I could not express, 
But which you know is yours. 



CONTENTS 



PAGE 

1919 1 

The Lost Singer . . . , 5 

The Poets 7 

The Last Enemy 9 

The Return 11 

My Songs 13 

Wisdom 15 

Romance 16 

The Prisoners 18 

Bonds 20 

The Servant 21 

Exile 22 

Carnival 23 

Surrender 24 

The Journey 25 

Arophe 26 

Sea Wisdom 29 

The Heavenly Intrigue . . . .30 

Hate 31 

The Bird 32 

Interlude . . . . . . .34 

Spring 35 

vii 



viii CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Tyre - 36 

The Sun , " . . 37 

Finis 39 

The Girl 40 

To the Moon 46 

Dream-Rover 47 

Image 48 

A Poet . . 50 

Fear 51 

The Empty Room 53 

To an Old Couple 54 

Inquisitors 56 

Children 57 

Mystery 62 

Change .63 

Twilight . 64 

For Elaine 66 

Burial ....... 67 

Harvest 69 

The Stranger 70 

Tamara 71 

A Truth 74 

Night 76 

For an Earthly Angel . . . .77 
The Secret of John Doe . . .78 



The author acknowledges the courtesy of the 
Editors of The Yale Review, The Nation, The 
Bellman, The Dial, The Boston Transcript, The 
Bookman, Poetry (Chicago), Contemporary Verse, 
The Madrigal, and The Little Book Publisher 
in granting permission to reprint the poems 
which first appeared in these publications. 



1919 



Now they are watching us from 

cloud and wave. 
Out of the wind and sunbeam, from 

the dust — 
The love, the strength, the beauty 

that they gave 
Are pleading with our hearts to keep 

the trust. 
Shall we shout loud and wave the 

battle-flag, 
Be thoughtless in the time of peace 

and let 
The old, black drums of War still 

call and brag 
Throughout the land? Shall we so 

soon forget 



2 1919 

The grace of flesh, the dancer in the 

brain, 
Audacities and dreams and all the 

truth 
Of speech and laughter that the 

crimson rain 
Shattered and took away from lovely 

Youth? 
Shall we conceal this shame of War 

by pride, 
Remembering not the things for 

which they died? 

II 

Long held content within your sea- 
girt home, 

America, you child of work and 
mirth, 

Now you have snapped the ancient 
bars to roam, 

A giant stripling, over all the earth. 

Now all the glittering earth is yours 
to hold : 



1919 3 

The million-handed engines and the 

stone 
Piled Babel-wise and all the noisy- 
gold, 
The proudest ships the world has 

ever known. 
O child, beware of your heroic part — 
The low satanic voice is in your ears. 
Look long and deep into that giant 

heart, 
For what you do will make the 

waiting years ! 
Not in defeat but in the hour of 

might 
Comes on the test that reads the soul 

aright. 

Ill 

Not now, the new Atlantis of our 
dream, 

But soon — dear, tired people every- 
where ! 

The sun has pierced the smoke : 
the plow will gleam, 



4 1919 

The grain will climb again upon the 

air. 
The honest days will bring the work 

that heals 
Back to the village and the streets 

of stone. 
There will be sweeter music from 

the wheels, 
For hands that make will be the 

hands that own. 
Lead on, brave spirits ! Not until 

we fight 
The battle of the mind will life be 

wise. 
Until we are no more afraid of light, 
We cannot bring our Heaven from 

the skies. 
O I have heard the clear, new bugles 

blow 
Over the English lanes and Russian 

snow! 



THE LOST SINGER 

In the olive Orient, 

Up and down Jerusalem streets 

He sang his poems. 

She who lived in Magdala, 
Fishermen of Galilee, 
Blind and poor from Jericho, 
Lepers out of Bethany, 
Children, scholars, thieves — 
What a motley crew 
Loved the singing Jew ! 

Now the bayonet is there, 

And the gun — 

Maybe on the very corner where 

they met. 
And the sun 



6 THE LOST SINGER 

Looks down upon the smoke. 
Saladin is in the dust, 
Richard camps on Olivet* 

Where are halo, thorn and staff, 
That cloak like Himalayan snow? 



THE POETS 

We need you now, strong guardians 

of our hearts, 
Now, when a darkness lies on sea 

and land, 
When we of weakening faith forget 

our parts 
And bow before the falling of the 

sand. 
Be with us now or we betray our 

trust 
And say, "There is no wisdom but 

in death" — 
Remembering lovely eyes now closed 

with dust — 
" There is no beauty that outlasts 

the breath." 
For we are growing blind and can- 
not see 

7 



8 THE POETS 

Beyond the clouds that stand like 

prison-bars, 
The changeless regions of our 

empery, 
Where once we moved in friendship 

with the stars. 
O children of the light, now in our 

grief 
Give us again the solace of belief. 



THE LAST ENEMY 

" The last enemy that shall be destroyed is 
Death." 

If alien planets, in their secret ways, 

Discover us through new philos- 
ophies 

In which all we hold dear is only 
dross 

In some inscrutable design of time : 

Our love, the echo in an empty 
house, 

Our strength, the ashes on the 
aimless wind. 

If there are other values than we 
know, 

Then maybe Death is very kind 
and wise. 

But all our joy comes out of meas- 
ured hours. 

9 



10 THE LAST ENEMY 

We prize the human tear above the 

star, 
The voice that calls our name above 

the dream, 
The certain kiss above the hidden 

law. 
The earth we see grows up within 

our breasts 
And blooms and hangs the fruit 

around our hearts. 
Death is the great indignity of life, 
The hand that steals our world 

and makes us blind. 



THE RETURN 

Just as a mother long ago 
Held her sweet child at last, so we 
Hold Life again within our arms 
And lean to kiss him tenderly. 

Life has come back into our hearts. 
To us who bound the brow of Death 
With too much laurel and who 

praised 
Too much the going out of breath — 
He has come back ! 

O we shall hold him safely now, 
Poor hungry child upon whose head 
Was laid the whip, to whom war 

gave 
The bullet and the sword for bread. 

He has come back ! 
Now we shall keep him in our hearts 
11 



12 THE RETURN 

And heal him by the music there. 
We shall give War the truthful 

name 
And snatch the roses from his hair. 

We shall make songs and cities now, 
Chart skies and tame the eastern 

fire, 
And build an earthly Paradise 
For him by engines of desire. 



MY SONGS 

I have made these songs for you, 

star-eyes. 
Sing them again when the brave, 

young Spring 
Walks through the streets we two 

have known, 
When the purple grackle builds in 

the Park 
And the pansies in Union Square 

are blown. 
Hide them away for the tired day 
When you go with the crowd through 

steel and stone, 
Aware that out in the fields of God 
The work of the conquering sun is 

done, 
The fruit is at last on the weary 

tree 

13 



14 MY SONGS 

And the clouds are bringing the 

heroes home I 
Into the red Valhalla west. 

Sing them again and think of me ! 



WISDOM 

A wise man holds himself in check, 
But fools and poets run ahead. 
One must be credulous or sit 
Forever with the living dead. 

The wise man shuts his door at 

night 
And pulls the bolts and drops the 

bars. 
One must go trustful through the 

dark 
To earn the friendship of the stars. 



15 



ROMANCE 

Why should we argue with the 

falling dust 
Or tremble in the traffic of the days ? 
Our hearts are music makers in 

the clouds, 
Our feet are running on the heavenly 

ways. 

We'll go and find the honey of 

romance 
Within the hollow of the sacred tree. 
There is a spirit in the eastern sky, 
Calling along the dawn to you and 

me. 

She'll lead us to the forest where she 
hides 

16 



ROMANCE 17 

The yellow wine that keeps the 

angels young — 
We are the chosen lovers of the 

earth 
For whom alone the golden comb 

was hung. 



THE PRISONERS 

She came among us and we lived. 
As unassuming as the day 
That seeks no boon or token, 
She came her elemental way 
And healed us who were broken. 

The faith that we had put aside 

In years when we were master men, 

Returned with her like flowers 

The knowing spring lures back again 

To help the tired hours. 

So we began to see and know. 

She brought the light and taught 

the truth 
To us poor fools of duty. 
It was her unimpeded youth 
That filled our lives with beauty. 

18 



THE PRISONERS 19 

They saw no change when she had 

gone. 
But we, who seemed so very old, 
Had snapped our chains to follow 
Her face, that was the rainbow's 

gold, 
Her heart, that was the swallow. 



BONDS 

I was an aimless wave 

In the center of a sea. 

You drew me up 

By the sun within your eyes. 

You made me strong and wise, 

Gave me back to earth again 

Like the providential rain. 

Trees in the wind, 

Birds on the nest, 

And the tiny ants 

In the jungle of the grass — 

I am linked by your hand 

To seed and song and work. 



THE SERVANT 

Consider me as one who bears 
The precious gifts another sends — 
A servant such as Abraham 
Sent down among his tribal friends. 

The songs I wind around your 

name, 
The joy I hold and must not hide, 
Are like the spangles and the gold 
The servant brought to Isaac's bride. 

You are that simple child to me — 
The kindly girl of Israel 
Who gave a servant once to drink 
At eve beside the Nahor well. 



21 



EXILE 

Your eyes are brave. 
This is no place for you — 
Beneath the shuddering arms of the 

pine. 
Youth has its own Gethsemane 
Out there on the open road. 

I am hiding here a while 

Until my enemy, the sun, is dead. 

But you are white and red, 

To you he will be friend. 

He will take your body in his 

hands 
And lift you up, star-high, 
Against his kiss. 



CARNIVAL 

Why do you go before the maple 

leaves 
Open, like little hands, to welcome 

spring ? 
O lovely woman, is your heart 

afraid 
Of all the truths the trees of April 

bring ? 

Just when the carnival begins, you 

go. 
Alone I watch the dancing of the 

earth. 
Though you may raise the cloak 

before your face, 
You cannot hide the meaning of this 

mirth. 



28 



SURRENDER 

I am weary of the old pretense ! 
Take me at last — I throw away 

the pride 
That covered up the burning June 
in me. 

1 have unlocked the gates and decked 

the walls 
And hung the restless banners on 

the wind. 
Hear the sweet bells ringing in my 

blood, 
Calling you home, my traveler from 

the sun ! 



THE JOURNEY 

What matter where the Apple 

grows ? 
True heroes never count the miles. 
The journey leads to where it 

leads — 
Sargasso or the Western Isles. 

No one place holds the dreams of 

all. 
Earth wears a multi-colored robe, 
And there are new Hesperides 
In every corner of the globe. 

Some find the fruit like Hercules — 
For such the moon and sun may 

stop; 
Yet never doubt that Sisyphus 
Achieved at last the mountain top. 



25 



AROPHE 

I 

There was a girl in Arophe 

When Helen launched her thousand 

ships, 
Whose body had the grace of day 
With dawn forever at her lips. 

When all the Ilium towers fell, 
There was a boy who heard the 

spring 
Calling across the asphodel 
For lonely lads to love and sing. 

Fire and gold and ivory moon, 
The music of the breath and blood, 
Were mingled in the gloam of June 
When Grecian lilacs came to bud. 

26 



AROPHE 27 

You covered it all, impartial 

Time, 
But you give again when you take 

away. 
It is I who follow the deathless 

girl, 
Come up from the dust of Arophe. 

II 

There was a house that loved the 

morning, 
Where now only the spring wind 

grieves. 
I shall not wake again beside you 
And hear the sparrows in the eaves. 

I shall not reach again 

For budding boughs above you 

To draw the valorous blossom to 

your lips. 
Never again we two shall wander 
The sea-blown road to the harbor 

ships. 



28 AROPHE 

The swift, white city makes a 

thunder 
Under my window night and day. 
I cannot follow your magic finger 
Over the roofs to Arophe. 



SEA WISDOM 

She'll come again with her incom- 
parable smile, 

And I'll not be afraid 

The winds that brought Ulysses 
home 

Have blown away the mists that 
lay 

Between her eyes and mine. 

There'll be no silence when she calls 

my name, 
For I have learned at last to speak. 
The waves that taught Demosthenes 
Have made my song as free and 

strong 
As her unfaltering speech. 



29 



THE HEAVENLY INTRIGUE 

As he who catches, in passing, 
A glimpse of himself in a mirror, 
Suddenly becomes aware of a being 
Detached from the scheme of the 

moment, 
So we two, in each other's arms, 
At a time of wonder and silence, 
Saw, for a flash, our figures 
Move and blend in the heavenly 

intrigue — 
Not as the King and the Queen of 

creation, 
But as the foolish deluded builders, 
Rearing impossible towers and sing- 
ing 
Under the whip of an absolute 
master. 



30 



HATE 

Her ways were full of quiet cruelties, 

Perfected as the poet carves the 
song. 

Drawn to her by the unacknowl- 
edged blood, 

And crushed beneath the hammers 
of her eyes, 

He knew the law and range of her 
desire. 

Her lust moved like a spider in a 

mesh 
Hung up to catch and hold the 

desperate wings. 
She spun the web to satisfy a need, 
To wreck and level all aspiring 

things. 



31 



THE BIRD 

Let the homing caravans 
Bring their treasures to the sea — 
I have heard the deathless bird 
On the sole Arabian tree. . 

Like a cup of scarlet wine 
Flung upon the desert sands, 
Like a flaming arrow shot 
Over multicolored lands, 

Flows and burns the magic song 
From the solitary bough, 
While the dusts of kingdoms fall 
On Mohammed's tranquil brow. 

Let the little human band 
Go its way to love and death — 
I have found the certain thing 
In this melody of breath. 

32 



THE BIRD 33 

I can never leave this bird ! 
He is like the soul in me, 
Singing there between the stars 
And the tents of Araby. 



INTERLUDE 

I am not old, but old enough 
To know that you are very young. 
It might be said I am the leaf, 
And you the blossom newly sprung. 

So I shall grow a while with you, 
And hear the bee and watch the 

cloud, 
Before the dragon on the branch, 
The caterpillar, weaves a shroud. 



34 



SPRING 

Out of the rain, 

A girl with hair blown wild before 

her, 
A girl, 

Shy and reluctant, 
Trembling as she leans against the 

wind — 
Dawn and death are like her. 

Angel and mother by her eyes, 
Demon and wanton by her smile — 
I know her well. 

I was her lover. 
Long ago I caught and held her 
Just when the willow yellowed 
And the water learned to speak. 
Slowly she comes again to keep the 
tryst. 

35 



TYRE 

Bright iron, cassia and calamus, 

Lambs and rams and goats, 

Floating out of Tyre 

In the ships of Tarshish — 

In the caravans of pine and cedar, 

With the men of Arvad, 

With the youth of Zidon, 

Singing on the oars. 



36 



THE SUN 

"... he marches on destroying as well 
as building . . . Every dawn slaughters the 
innocent." 

The little clock is counting 
The footsteps of the sun. 
he will surely find us 
Before our work is done ! 

Before we're through with planning, 
Before our loves are said, 
He'll come with bolt and banner, 
Dressed up in eastern red. 

He'll tear the moon from heaven 
And blind the hopeful stars, 
And music will be shattered 
By the thunder of his cars. 

Like flame he'll leap before us; 
He'll hurl his burning darts, 

37 



38 THE SUN 

And throw a net of fire 
Around our helpless hearts. 

Then fools will start their weeping, 
The strong will fight for breath, 
And some will give their bodies, 
Like Jesus Christ, to death. 

But he will surely find us ! 
Concerned with things to be, 
He will not hear nor heed us, 
Who live so presently. 

The little clock is counting : 
He marches on in haste, 
Who daily dreams creation 
And lays creation waste. 



FINIS 

I NEEDED yOU 

Now that is gone. 

I cared for you — 

Now that is song. 

What am I to you, 

What are you to me, 

Though we lived so utterly? . . . 

Two gibbering gulls that pass at 

night 
Bound for lone aeries underneath 

the stars. 



39 



THE GIRL 



That house in which you lived 

was not your home, 
For home's a place where there are 

faith and love. 
Two poor tragedians stalked along 

those halls, 
Betrayed by passion and denied by 

hope. 
They hated you whose | beauty 

brought to mind 
The early magic of their common 

life. 
But in your own wise heart you made 

a home 
Where you put secret things like 

hills and heaven. 

40 



THE GIRL 41 

You had the independence of the rose, 
The bravery of sunlight on the 
grave. 

II 

Often you came to the room of 
many books. 

There, upon the floor, under the 
open window, 

You would sit, a young Athena — 

The dreams and wisdom of the 
world around you. 

As you read, 

The wind, blowing across the honey- 
suckle, 

Played with a ruffle on your dress. 

Then you never heard the laughter 

of the boys 
On their way to Tanner's Pool, 
Nor the gossip of the trees in the 

garden. 
You had climbed the slender ladders 
That lean against the clouds, 



43 THE GIRL 

You were running in the meadows 
of the sky. 

Ill 

With mottled stones and shoots 

of yellow willow 
You built an altar by the stream 
Back of the great white house. 
You, who were friendly with the 

flowers 
And understood the ways of stars 

and birds, 
Made with your own hands 
A thing of beauty. 

There you went when the story 

ended ; 
When the sun crept under the hill ; 
When the people of the house were 

cruel. 

You took the violets that grew 

along the fence 
And twined a garland for your secret 

temple. 



THE GIRL 43 

IV 

She was a mother to your hidden 

self — 
A wistful, wrinkled woman who 

kept young 
By watching you and listening to 

your talk. 
How she loved you ! 
You were the light that made the 

journey sure. 

You never knew the pain beneath 

her smile 
That day you brought the nest of 

robins home. 
"Little children of the birds" — 

you called them. 
You wondered why she turned and 

walked away. 

V 

The seed is carried by desolate winds 
Blowing down from the autumn night, 
While the trees bend close and mutter 



44 THE GIRL 

Like tired wives confiding 
The terrible truths of birth. 

VI 

Once when the snow covered the 

garden, 
You heard a voice that called your 

name 
Over and over, 
Mixed with the sound of the world 

outside. 

Then you left the fire in the grate, 

The story-book and the water- 
colored beads. 

In your room, alone, 

You hid your face in the pillow. 

You could not stop those tears 
that burned your eyes, 

Those sobs that shook the bed. 

Outside the storm ended. 
The sun came and the snow on the 
roof melted. 



THE GIRL 45 

A blue-bird paused on the garden 
tree. 

When they found you later, 
You were fast asleep — 
A child no longer. 



TO THE MOON 

Questioning you come 
Sibyl-like out of the darkened ocean, 
Trailing your argent hair 
Across the broken water. 

Wanderer, 

Take me into your cool bosom 

And make me a part of you. 

Lay your soft hands of light over 

Nj my eyes 

And mix me with your memories. 

Tender vestal of the night, 

Give me your heavenly gift of peace. 



46 



DREAM-ROVER 

Kiss me and ask no more ! 

I cannot stay. I am the dust that 

drifts, 
Falling at last when all winds cease 
Upon a flower in a secret place, 
Upon the fire of a lovely face. 

Kiss me and let me go ! 

I am dream-rover, drawn by cloudy 

eyes 
Of one who strokes a dulcimer, 
Waiting forever strange and wan 
Beneath the pleasure dome of Kubla 

Khan. 



47 



IMAGE 

You the warm, the beautiful, the 

real 
I can pass by in pride, with bravery : 
So many ways there are to kill a 

glance, 
It is so easy to be strong with 

words. 

But you the walker in my mental 

world,1 
You the intangible, the invisible 

thought, 
You the inscrutable, I cannot pass — 
You crush me at your breast and 

let me fall. 

It is not you — it is an image of 
you, 

48 



IMAGE 49 

Moving like light and shadow in my 

brain, 
Through every secret history of my 

mind, 
That tortures me, that mocks my 

brave pretense. 



A POET 

The fingers of the lovely dead 
Were laid across his burning eyes, 
And when he walked in Soho Square 
He saw the Lesbian in the skies. 

Whitechapel hummed its dirge of 

hours, 
In streets the men and dogs were 

lean. 
While little children played with sin, 
He watched the face of red Faus- 

tine. 

War brewed a poison for the world, 
But blind and unaware he wrote : — 
"The Spring comes on in Calydon, 
From Kios Phaon rows his boat," 



50 



FEAR 



I NEEDED yOU 

As a white ship needs 
The breath of a cloud — 
Now I am drifting, drawn by the 
subtle tides. 
Come down out of the sky, 
Compassionate wind ! 
I hear the waves running on 
the shore. 



II 

I cared for you 
As a bright bird cares 
For a light in the East — 
Now I am songless, lost in the 
darkened wood. 

51 



52 FEAR 

Lift your shining lamp, 
Unconquerable dawn ! 
I hear the wings of the terrible 
hawk. 



THE EMPTY ROOM 

It never can happen again — 

Here, in this beautiful place, 

Or beyond the gray dust of the 

tomb. 
I will take the daisy and sorrel, 
The late star-weed and the laurel, 
And the fatal poppy of coral 
Into my empty room. 

And I shall be quiet again, 
Watched over by myriad eyes 
That teach the old way of the years. 
For I know that life to the flower 
Is kind enough in its hour, 
And Death himself gives it dower, 
Richer than first appears. 



53 



TO AN OLD COUPLE 

Wait a little while — 

Death will answer to your nodding ; 

Like a friend he will come and find 

you, 
Take you both and fold you from the 

sun. 

Two old, tired people ! 
What does it matter to you now 
That no one thing was completed, 
Not even a single task set the early 

heart, 
Achieved in fulness ? 

Bow on your mute assents to life ! 

The years unravel the designs of 
youth, 

Yet time brings at the last 

The serene illusion of accomplish- 
ment. 

54 



TO AN OLD COUPLE 55 

When your two wrinkled hands meet 

in the night — 
You know that all is well. 

Wait awhile — 
The door will open. 



INQUISITORS 

We dream the impossible dream — 
We see behind the beauty of the 

star, 
We hear beyond the voice in the 

wind, 
We feel beneath the kiss on our 

lips — 
For us there shall be no rest. 

We, the unsatisfied, 

Ruthless inquisitors, 

Pleading with life — 

We are crusaders without a Jeru- 
salem, 

Pilgrims for whom there can be no 
shrine. 



56 



CHILDREN 



Heavy are the raindrops falling from 

the eaves. 
I awake in the dark and hear them, 
After the storm is over: 
Drip, drip, drip — 
On the wooden walk helow. 
Louder than the howl of the running 

storm 
Are the little voices of forgotten rain. 
Though I cover my ears, 
The blood through my veins keeps time 
To the certain, fatal falling — 
Dead ! Dead ! Dead ! 

II 

She stood above me in the narrow 
hallway. 

57 



58 CHILDREN 

Looking up I saw and knew her: 
Young Rossetti's Damozel, 
Leaning on the golden stair-rail, 
Yellow country daisies in her hand. 
Up there, too, I knew was heaven — 
Not the kind, perhaps, God rules in, 
Giving stars to hopeless lovers, 
But a little four- walled heaven, 
Looking out on city pavements 
Where the angels rarely walked. 

Ill 

Eve, my beloved Eve, 

Be not afraid ! 

My arms are around you; 

He cannot find us here. 

Let His flaming Cherubim wield their 

fiery swords — 
They guard an empty garden now. 

Eve, Eve, my beloved Eve, 

Lift up your face and look at me . . . . 

Ah, you are lovelier now 

Than when I saw you first 



CHILDREN 59 

Beside the red Euphrates in the dawn! 
Do you remember ? — 
We were two children and we knew not 
what we did. 

Eve, my beloved Eve, 
Weep not for those forbidding years; 
Take me again upon your breast — 
A wiser Paradise is in our kiss ! 

pain and pleasure of the Fruit ! 

IV 

1 shut the door on the shaking 

street. 
The hall was silent and dark. 
Then up two flights of stairs — 
Slowly, wearily, with heavy feet. 
I thought of the times I had heard 

my name, 
There on that narrow stair-way — 
But now she did not call. 
She lay on a cot ; 
Her eyes were wet and she stirred, 
Restless in pain. 



60 CHILDREN 

On the wall the yellow gas-flame 
flickered ; 

It filled the room with ghostly 
shadows — 

A mockery of the sun that had loved 
her windows. 

Her clothes lay on the chair beside 
her, 

Huddled, pathetic — white things 
like herself. 

The doctor spoke — 

I remember only the whisky upon 
his breath, 

Then his step on the stair 

And the shameless voice of the 
city 

As he opened the outer door. 

Then silence, pitiless silence. . . . 

Two poor children, ignorant, bewil- 
dered, baffled, beaten — 

Alone in silence. . . . 

Only the hiss of the yellow gas- 
flame 

And the creak of the wooden cot. 



CHILDREN 61 

V 

Outside in the barn the horses are 

moving ; 
Restlessly they stamp on the floor of 

their stalls. 

(Knock, knock, knock — 
Will the door ever open ?) 

creatures out there in the dark, 

Are you, too, aware of the treacherous 
night, 

The calm, deceitful night that is plan- 
ning, 

Forever scheming behind the mask 
of moon and stars ? 

(Knock, knock, knock — 
Will the door ever open ?) 

Poor, helpless beasts are we that know, 
Yet do not understand ! 



MYSTERY 

If a star can grow 

On a blade of grass, 

If a rose can climb 

Like a Romeo, 

And a river flow 

Through a granite wall — 

Maybe a human heart, 

Broken within a breast, 

Can heal again 

In the simple rain, 

When a man is laid to rest. 



CHANGE 

Mad winds blow over the earth 
Soft rain slips down from the cloud : 
The leaf and the bud arise 
And follow the sun. 

After it all, the seed, 

The searching root, 

Darkness — 

And the slow beginning again. 

Pain swings open the gates of life : 
The wondering traveler enters in. 
The new Madonna smiles through 

her tears 
And draws young April up to her 
breast. 

After it all, the babe, 

The adventurous flesh, 

The pilgrim mind, 

Silence — 

And the journey over again. 



TWILIGHT 

At the hour of silhouettes 
In a city of beautiful towers, 
We who were slave and slavey 
Walked through the purple streets, 
And the balm and the color of 

twilight 
Were motherly hands that touched 

us, 
Were magical hands that soothed 

us 
As we moved in the granite aisles. 

Then you who had never been 

happy 
And I who would never be free 
Felt the infinite truth of that pity, 
Sky-given to you and to me. 
For the wheels and the lamps of the 

city 

64 



TWILIGHT 65 

Were terrible hands that found us, 
Were merciless hands that crushed 

us 
As we walked in the granite aisles. 



FOR ELAINE 

Go back, go back to Camelot ! 
The night-hawks hide the broken 

moon. 
The wolves are running in the road, 
And blood is on the dragon's tooth. 
Go back, go back — the worldly 

truth 
Is far too much for human eyes ! 
Go back, go back to Camelot, 
And take your gilded mirror up : 
Your little hand shall hold the 

shield 
Against the madness of the world. 



BURIAL 

She is a seed that will grow again 
Out of the quiet night of the grave. 
Cover her over with the warm, 

sweet earth — 
She was one of the things the wild 

earth gave. 

When the bushes burn on the Pali- 
sades 

And the green fire creeps across the 
place, 

Go, follow the flight of the yellow 
bees 

If you would look at her lovely 
face. 

Under the reverential trees 
She keeps the promise of earthly 
days, 

67 



68 BURIAL 

Ever returning with the flame and 

song — 
Persephone, back through the violet 

ways. 



HARVEST 

Because to-morrow we shall lie 
Unknowing with the yearly slain, 
We walk to-day away from men 
And look across the ripened grain. 

Our love and journey were like 

this : 
Out of the old, conspiring earth 
We rose and struggled to the sky, 
Forever restless from our birth. 

Creeping on air we felt the sun, 
Storm-bent, the fellowship of tears. 
Though we were prisoners of clay, 
Our minds went out like pioneers. 

Only the human hand I hold, 
Only the face that you can see — 
These are all that we have found. 
Bind us together, tenderly ! 



THE STRANGER 

Isaac has his bride. 
Standing in the bowing corn, 
He saw her coming on the yellow 
camel. 

Now his house is bright with many 

lamps. 
The marriage feast is spread — 
Wine and jewels and colored linen 
Shine upon the table. 

Empty are the jars. 
The friends have all departed — 
Lower burn the lamps upon the wall. 
Through the window, over young 

Rebecca, 
Shines the morning star. 

Go, imperious bridegroom, 
Sit beside her for a while in silence — 
She is still the stranger in your 
house. 

70 



TAMARA 

In Tamara we two were glad. 
I wove the silken water grass 
That lifts a blossom in the Spring. 
In Tamara you sat and sang 
All day in worship of the wing, 
The sun, the river and the seed — 
All day I heard you plead. 

In Tamara the night laid lips 
Upon the brow of man and maid, 
And all that each had lost or missed 
Came back again with evening shade. 
How beautiful we were to God ! 
How happy we were then ! 
In Tamara our bodies lay, 
But we were where the fountains 

play, 
Beyond the gates of men. 

71 



72 TAMARA 

Then came the warriors of the West, 
And day and night were filled with 

pain. 
Day and night the shining rain 
Of their bright spears sought out 

the breast 
Of man and maid and babe 
In Tamara, 

In Tamara, the land of peace, 
Where you and I were glad. 

Before the foaming warrior horse 

We fled the hills of our delight, 

By shameless day and shameful 

night. 
Beyond the smoke, beyond the flame, 
Into this land that has no name, 
Into this wilderness we came, 
Away from Tamara. 

take my hand ! O hold my hand ! 
The black clouds want our hearts, 
And there are serpents at our feet 
With whips and fatal darts. 



TAMARA 73 

Terrible fruits upon the boughs 

Hang down to tempt our lips, 

Our mouths that knew the honey 

pear, 
And crushed the grapes that glit- 
tered there, 
Like eyes, in Tamara. 

The lizard and the beetle crawl 
Upon the ruined sand. 
Beyond the jagged mountain wall, 
The white face and the star go 

down 
Into the ebon land 
That once was Tamara. 

The vulture and the winged rat 
Fly low to watch us now. 
The wild dog and the sabred cat 
Wait for the weaver and the bird, 
Who wove the silken water grass, 
Who sang beside the tidal glass 
Awhile in Tamara. 



A TRUTH 

Though you must turn aside your 

lovely head 
And lift the hand so gently pressed 

on mine, 
You are not lost to me. I love you, 

dear, 
Not half so much for these as for 

the faith 
Your spirit taught, far better than 

your lips. 
Now I can look and find you every- 
where. 
The blossomy bough, so bare a 

while ago, 
The blade that thrusts aside the 

heavy stone, 
The ragged play -girl dancing in the 

park, 
Brave laughter ringing at the end of 

day 

74 



A TRUTH 75 

From dingy rooms above laborious 

streets — 
By these I feel you near me and I 

know 
You have not gone away. Beside 

me still 
Your beauty builds and teaches 

as it sings — 
You are a truth, dear, deep in the 

heart of things. 



NIGHT 

I walk along the yellow hours 
And find you at the end, 
Marvelous mother of the stars. 

In the intimate silence of your 
love, 

When you rock the earth like a tired 
child 

And fold the leaves and the feath- 
ered wings — 

Remember me. 

Gather me to your breast, womanly 

night ! 
I am the babe who grew 
In the dark beneath your heart 
When the world was new. 



76 



FOR AN EARTHLY ANGEL 

You are very beautiful to me : 
I shall go where you go 
Through the mazy day, 
Reaching up for high fruit, 
Leaning down for ground buds, 
Spreading tents at twilight 
Where you can rest and pray. 

Every man must follow some light, 
Dream beams or little flames 
Burning in the eyes — 
I shall go where you go. 
It is quite enough to know 
How an earthly angel lives, 
What she needs and what she gives 
To the earth-imprisoned things. 

Being very beautiful to me, 
I shall follow you and learn 
What I could not half discern, 
If alone I went my way 
Through the mazy day. 

77 



THE SECRET OF JOHN DOE 

I do the task for little coins, 
I rise and eat and lay me down. 
I am the undistinguished slave, 
Like millions of this dusty town. 

No one would guess that I have seen 
Young Jesus on the burning cross 
That shines electric on the Square 
And turns the golden stars to dross. 

No one would guess that once I 

walked 
With slim Diana of the Tower, 
And searched the crannies of the 

paves, 
And found, with her, the hidden 

flower. 

They can not know that I have sat 
With Edgar Poe till dawn came up, 
And heard him weep for his Lenore, 
And seen the raven on his cup. 

78 



THE SECRET OF JOHN DOE 79 

No one would say, to look at me, 
That once I loved a woman here, 
Or that this clerk, tied down to 

books, 
Could touch the lips of Guinevere. 

I do my daily work for coins, 
I wake and eat and lay me down — 
Yet I have been the man who lives, 
A poet in this dingy town. 



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